Disclaimer:I don't own Robert Downey Jr or Sherlock Holmes. Wait a second, why don't I?

A/N: This is my second Sherlock Holmes fic. My first is 'Hide and Seek' and you should totally read it. I noticed there isn't enough Sherlock Holmes 2009 fluff Watson & Holmes friendship fluff/angst/hurt/comfort fics and these are my favorite. I hope you like this fic.

"I must thank you for treating us to that wonderful dinner Mr. Holmes." Mary gushed to my best friend, moving her bangs out of her eyes with a graceful sweep of her hand. He was about to reply when a man in a black mask ran by, grabbing Mary's pearls in a quick yank.

"I'll get him." Holmes said quickly, rushing off in the burglar's direction. Mary held a hand to her heart, breathing quickly.

"Are you alright darling?" I pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead as she sobbed into my chest. Holmes was quickly at my side again, breathless and holding the pearls in his left hand. He handed them to Mary, who let out a yelp of delight and pulled the detective into a tight embrace. He gave me a desperate look but gently returned the gesture.

"How did you get him?" I asked, wrapping an arm around Mary's waist. He gave me a wry smile.

"I didn't. He ran right into the arms of a constable."

"Let's just go home," Mary sighed. "Won't you join us for some tea, Mr. Holmes?" My friend gave my wife a charming smile. "I'd love to."

I felt rather bad. I knew I had a right to be happy, but I didn't like my friend like this. He was always forcing a smile, always trying to please us, and now risking his damn life for some worthless pearls. It didn't sit right with me.

I didn't notice that he was limping until we reached Cavendish Place. Mary went into the kitchen to help the maid prepare some tea. Holmes plopped down on the couch and I caught him wince.

I leaned by his leg. Brown eyes looked down at me. "Watson, what are you doing?"

"Holmes, I just want you to know that I'm always here for you. You know that don't you?"

Holmes snorted and rolled his eyes. "Watson stop embarrassing yourself."

"Holmes."

He sighed and looked me in the eye. "I know old boy."

"Which leg is hurting?"

He sighed again; he knew he couldn't get past me. "My right knee. I might have sprained it when I tripped over those crates…"

"You tripped over some crates?" I couldn't restrain my laughter. He scowled at me. "Alright, alright I'm sorry old boy I'll take a look." I rolled up his pants leg and winced at the sight of the ugly purple and black bruising. "Holmes you should of let me take a look at this sooner." I scolded.

Mary walked in with the tea and gasped when she saw Holmes knee. "Oh dear, John would you like me to fetch your bag?"

"Yes darling."

I helped Holmes lie back on the couch and put a cushion under his knee. Then I gave him a stern look. "I don't want to see you walking for a week, understood?"

"But Watson-"

"No buts. And I mean it that I'm always here for you."

Holmes gave a sigh of resignation and I knew he finally understood.

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